


in the blue of evening

by ludgatesdyer



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Dancing, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:22:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26882848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ludgatesdyer/pseuds/ludgatesdyer
Summary: Scrubb, Pole, and a dance.
Relationships: Jill Pole/Eustace Scrubb
Comments: 3
Kudos: 11





	in the blue of evening

**Author's Note:**

> I know I should probably be updating Last Hope but this has been sitting in Google Docs for quite some time and I figured I’d share it. I love these two. We really need some more Eustace/Jill fics on here. 
> 
> Takes place pre-The Last Battle.

Eustace loathed fancy gatherings.

There was a time when he didn’t, but that was when he was a git, and he would rather not remember that time. Back then, getting dressed to the nines and hearing his parents marvel about his achievements (academic or otherwise) to their friends was music to his ears. Alberta would kiss his cheek, Harold would pat him on the shoulder, and those in their little social circle would all make remarks about how lucky they were to have a son as intelligent and good-natured as Eustace Clarence Scrubb.

Now, it’s different. Now, when Eustace goes to such gatherings with his parents, it’s never because he _wants_ to go. It’s because he _has_ to go. He knows he must be the perfect, dutiful son he has always been, because he doesn’t have a choice. He can’t put up a fuss otherwise he’ll never hear the end of it from them, particularly Alberta, who prides herself on being the talk of the town. He must put on a facade, even if it kills him inside. 

It’s never fun anymore. There is always something wrong with what he does, what he says, how he behaves. He is constantly told to straighten his tie or fix his hair or adjust his belt. Sometimes he’ll hear his parents in hushed tones speaking ill of his cousins - how they’ve changed him into a boy they no longer recognize, how they’ve manipulated him into believing their “fairytales”. He wants to yell at them, wants to scream into oblivion about how Narnia _is_ real and he’s been there and he misses it so.

He sighs heavily as he adjusts his tie in the mirror. He doesn’t want to go to Simon and Margaret Wood’s thirtieth anniversary party. He doesn’t even really know much about Simon and Margaret Wood, except that Simon works with his father at the law firm. 

“Eustace! Time to go!” Alberta yells from downstairs. Without a word, Eustace practically drags himself out of his room, down the stairs, and into the car.

He hears his parents speak fondly of Simon and Margaret the whole way to the social club, and his stomach drops. They used to speak fondly of _him_ on the way to the social club, not about people they barely knew. 

He wonders if they’re pretending he’s not in the car with them. 

-

The lights are a little too bright and the music is a little too loud and people are standing a little too close to each other. Eustace can barely hear himself think over all of this commotion. He’s taken to leaning against a wall by the back of the room. His parents don’t notice he’s gone, they just continue talking about work and the weather. In a way, he’s sort of glad they didn’t, because he’s in no mood to deal with their bickering tonight. 

“I didn’t know you’d be here, Scrubb.” An all too familiar voice snaps Eustace out of his daze. Before him stands Jill Pole in a way he’s never seen her before. Her brown hair is swept up into an elegant twist, her lips are painted a dark shade of red, and she’s wearing a blue dress with a floral pattern that could certainly cause an optical illusion. He knows it’s not her choice to look like this. It’s a choice made by her mother, who prides herself on perfection and acceptance much like Alberta Scrubb. 

“Pole.” Eustace breathes a sigh of relief. “I didn’t know you’d be here either, but I’m quite happy you are. Your parents are also friends with this...couple?”

“Mother and Margaret are childhood friends, but they barely do so much as talk on the phone.” Jill leans against the wall next to Eustace, her eyes following her mother’s movements as she laughs among a group of women, one of them being Margaret herself. “Of course, Mother will go to any party she’s invited to regardless of the circumstances. She loves attention more than anything else.”

“My mother is the same way.” Eustace gnaws at his lip. “So is Cousin Susan, as you know.”

Eustace’s heart drops to his stomach upon mentioning his cousin. Before, he used to applaud her logicality and wit. He always thought she was the sane, tolerable cousin. Now, she’s different. She’s turned into someone similar to, if not the same as, almost every single woman in his view at this party (“Lipstick, nylons and invitations. That’s her life now.” Edmund told him on the phone once). In all honesty, he’s surprised she’s not here, given that she claims to know every Tom, Dick and Harry in town. 

“I hope I don’t become any of these women when I’m older.” Jill folds her arms across her chest, a habit Eustace knows quite well because he used to do it often. “I know my mother wants me to be just like her, but I simply can’t imagine a life full of fancy parties and dresses and shoes that hurt when I walk in them.”

“You won’t, Pole. I promise.” Eustace places a hand on her shoulder. “In fact, I believe that you look better than any grown woman here tonight.”

He watches as her face turns as red as a tomato. He starts to wonder if maybe he shouldn’t have said that.

“Do you really think so?” Jill asks, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear.

“I - well - yes.” Eustace stammers, managing to give her a small smile. “I - I do.”

He’s noticed he’s been smiling a lot more when Jill’s around. He’s not quite sure why that is.

Jill opens her mouth to speak, but before she can say anything, the band starts to play something slow. It’s a song Eustace knows fairly well. His mother owns a great deal of Sinatra records, although she never plays them anymore. Couples flock to the dance floor like migrating birds, but all eyes are on Simon and Margaret as they stride between them all. Eustace figures this song is somewhat significant to their marriage in some way, because they’re staring lovingly at each other like his parents do whenever a Bing Crosby song comes on the radio. 

“I’ve heard this song before.” Jill says in an almost whisper. “I quite like it, even though it’s a love song, and I despise love songs.”

“Me too.” Eustace chuckles, and in that moment he gathers up whatever confidence he has left in him. “Do you want to dance with me?”

Jill looks at him with pursed lips, and he knows he’s made a fool of himself right then and there.

“Eustace Clarence Scrubb wants to dance with me? What sort of parallel universe is this?” She giggles softly, trying to stifle it so as to not draw attention to herself. “I thought you didn’t like dancing.”

“I do, if it’s with the right partner.” Eustace extends his hand towards her. That was sort of true. “What do you say, Pole? Shall we dance?”

Jill’s brown curls bob with a curt nod of her head as he takes her hand and leads her onto the dance floor.

-

They’re swaying together in a steady rhythm, his hands on her waist and hers on his shoulders. It’s a little odd, dancing with his best friend surrounded by married couples, but he can’t deny that he’s enjoying this moment with Jill. He feels her body shake as she giggles.

“What’s so funny?” Eustace questions.

“Nothing.” Jill continues to giggle, her eyes meeting the floor. “You’re just...not as bad as I expected.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Well, for someone who used to despise dancing, I thought you would’ve been a little more...unstable.” 

They laugh.

“When was the first time you ever danced with someone?” Eustace blurts out. “Someone other than your parents?”

“Now.” Jill says quietly, her voice cracking. She glances over at Margaret - perfect, pretty Margaret - and then down at the floor. “No one has ever really noticed me. Or cared about me.”

Eustace frowns. He knows that Jill’s older sisters have had much better luck in the romance department than she has. Elizabeth and Pauline take after their mother, priding themselves on looks. Jill takes after her father, taking an interest in reading and writing all sorts of stories. While her older sisters dream of marrying handsome men and having plenty more children than they could handle, Jill dreams of becoming a famous author and sharing her works with the world. Boys don’t like girls like that.

Silence overcomes them because Eustace doesn’t know what to say in response. He’s starting to wonder if maybe _he’s_ taken to her. Maybe that’s why he sneaks glances at her during class, or calls her at night when his parents are too preoccupied with the news to know, or wastes no time defending her when the boys at Experiment House tug on her braids and make fun of her clothes. 

“I ruined the mood, didn’t I…” She grumbles. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no. Not at all, Pole.” He reassures her, grinning. “If it’s any consolation, I notice you, and I care about you.”

“Really?” 

“Really.”

Jill wraps her arms around Eustace’s neck and rests her chin on his shoulder. It catches him by surprise. 

“You’re my best friend, Scrubb.” Jill whispers.

Maybe one day he’ll have the courage to tell her how he feels, but for now he’ll savour the blue of evening. 

  
  
  
  



End file.
